


Only a Dream

by Much_Ado_Abt_Novels



Series: Mechanics and Mandalorians [3]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sleeping Reader, Somnophilia, but the reader is fine with it after, taking off the helmet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28034151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels/pseuds/Much_Ado_Abt_Novels
Summary: Exhausted, you take sleeping pills and pass out in the Mandalorian's bed. He tries to resist, but this could be his chance to take off his helmet around you and see how it feels.From Mando's POV, sort of?
Relationships: Din Djarin & Reader, Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Series: Mechanics and Mandalorians [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052387
Comments: 16
Kudos: 339





	Only a Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the series Mechanics and Mandalorians, but it can be read on its own.

The Mandalorian rolled his shoulders to dispel the ache. It had been a long day for both of you. A space chase, followed by an ungraceful landing on a random planet that meant you had to fix the ship all day while Mando was off hunting your quarry.

When he got back, you were still at it. After freezing the bounty in carbonite, he offered to help. Somehow, he found the sight of you, smeared with grease and reaching your hand far into his ship’s belly, your leg stuck out for balance, extremely endearing. You ordered him to hold a part in place while you bolted it down.

Together, you got the hunk of metal and pain (your words) into working condition, and Mando lifted it into the sky, setting a course for the next bounty and urging the ship into hyperspace. It needed no further guidance now. He unbuckled and exited the cockpit to look for you or the kid.

He found you feeding yourself and the child dinner, making a game of it by holding out pieces of jerky that the kid would make fly into his hands. That was unsettling as much as it was cool. He grabbed some food for himself, nodded at you both, and went into his room to eat alone. It was barely the size of a storage closet, all drawers set into the walls and under the cot so that his belongings wouldn’t be dashed around the room as the ship made sharp turns. Nothing but the blanket and pillow were lying unsecured. He ate, then stuck his helmet back on.

On the way out, he ran into you. “Hey,” you said. “Are the sleeping pills in your room? I can’t find them in the med-pack.”

“Why do you need sleeping pills?”

“I’m kriffing exhausted, and I want to sleep soundly tonight.”

You did look pretty worn out. “All right,” he said. “Yes, they’re in the Captain’s quarters, on the left, near the…”

“Thanks.” You were already disappearing into his room.

He put the kid down to bed in his pram then returned to his room, expecting you to be gone. By all accounts, you should have found the pills then left—you should not be curled up on his cot, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. He pulled out of the room and glanced down the hall, making sure he was in the right place. Of course he was in the right place. He knew where his own room was. But clearly _you_ didn’t.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with more venom than he’d intended.

“I like your bed better. It smells like you.” You snuggled up into his pillow, smiling blissfully.

Gods, you were already loopy from the drugs. He considered carrying you back to your own cot, but there were too many ladders in the way. Traversing the distance with a person in his arms would be impossible. “You realize that if you stay here,” he said, “we’re going to have to sleep together on the same tiny bed.” 

“Yep, come sleep.” You patted the area next to you then turned to face the wall.

He sighed and removed his armor. He’d have to sleep with the helmet on, which he preferred not to do when possible. He changed into softer clothes for sleeping and slid into bed behind you, yanking back his portion of the blanket from where it was twisted around you.

He put one arm around you and held you close. So the blanket would be more effective, obviously.

He was contemplating the shirt, a plain greenish-brown weave that he had never given a second thought in his life until he saw you wearing it. It extended past your hips (thank the gods), and you had rolled up the sleeves a few times to expose your hands. What in the known universe had compelled you to put it on? How many of his drawers had you dug through looking for the pills?

He dragged his hand down your soft side. The shirt looked good on you, he had to admit, but maybe you knew that. That could have been your intention: to drive him crazy when he saw you wearing it.

He froze when your hips began to rock almost imperceptibly. He whispered your name, but you didn’t stir. So you were asleep, not doing it on purpose. Not grinding back against him on purpose.

You clenched the blanket and kept rocking, your breath coming in puffs of quiet exertion, and then you started whimpering. “Yes. Please.”

You were having a wet dream. Mando sighed. It would be better to help you through this so you could stop pushing your pretty little ass against his hips and he could finally get some sleep. He slid the hand on your waist down, then dragged it up your thigh under the shirt.

He cursed. You weren’t wearing anything under it. And you were wet as a jungle after a rainstorm. He spread your wetness around and up to your clit, and you jolted. He waited a second to be sure you were still asleep, and then he started rubbing.

“Mando,” you breathed.

Blood rushed south. Were you actually thinking about him, or had some part of your mind recognized the feel of his fingers? Either way, you were canting your hips into his hand, and his pants were beginning to seem uncomfortably tight.

“Please, Mando.”

“Are you actually asleep?” He forced himself to ask the question at a normal volume, though every instinct told him to whisper. You didn’t respond. The sleeping pills were powerful, so he hadn’t expected you to. Just to be certain, he shook you a little, then snapped his fingers near your face. Nothing. You were out cold.

Well, this was intriguing. Theoretically, you wouldn’t remember anything he did if he… if he took off the helmet.

It was wrong to take advantage of your vulnerability, but this could be his chance to explore how he felt about removing the helmet without fearing the repercussions if he realized he didn’t like the sensation. He didn’t have to be afraid of disappointing you—pushing you away and saying he’d changed his mind—if he tried it now first, before you woke up.

He breathed heavily, ready to pull the blanket up over your eyes at the slightest hint that you were waking. He reached up, took off his helmet one-handed, and set it aside. Then he settled into place behind you.

He had never kissed anyone. He held his breath as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck for the very first time, stifling a groan at how warm you were. He returned his fingers between your legs, pulling you back against his erection as he rubbed pleasure into you. He mouthed your neck with abandon, dragging his nose along your ear and flicking his tongue over your skin. He wished you were aware and responding so he could tell what felt good.

He needed more. He pressed a final kiss to your spine and rolled you onto your back, covering you with his body and burying his face in your neck. He slid two fingers into your wet heat and fucked you while his mouth worked over your jaw and collarbone.

There was nothing like the feel of your bare skin on his face. It felt indulgent, forbidden. He rubbed his cheek against yours, relishing the softness. 

Mando was too hard, and you were right there under him, legs conveniently spread. He pulled his cock out of his pants and thrust over your opening, coating it in your slick. He watched your closed eyes, your expression that barely changed even as he pushed into you.

This was your own fault. If you didn’t want to be fucked, you shouldn’t have passed out half-naked in his bed.

He gripped your waist under his shirt, supported himself on one forearm near your head, and speared your cunt with a recklessness he hadn’t possessed since that drug from weeks ago wore off. It had to be the missing helmet that was making him so desperate, so anxious. What if you woke and realized what he was doing? What if you woke and _saw him_?

Your velvet inner lining fluttered even as your body remained limp. You moaned a little, still dreaming, perhaps, mumbling sleepy nonsense here and there. He drank in the details of your body, seen for the first time without the limitations of his visor. He saw all of you, spread out, taking his cock so goddamn well he might cry.

Your mouth begged to be kissed. He bent his head down the last few inches and connected your lips. He was clumsy, inexperienced, wondering whether he was doing it right and if you even wanted this. He very much did. Your mouth was warm and soft. He hadn’t known his lips could be this sensitive, picking up the tiniest cracks and contours of the mouth he had only explored before with his fingers.

If you responded, he might just combust.

Suddenly, the sensation of it all overwhelmed him. It was too much at once. This was wrong; he should never have taken the helmet off and tortured himself like this. He shouldn’t have taken it off when light spilled under the door enough to show you every feature if you just opened your eyes; he shouldn’t have tempted fate. He shouldn’t have kissed you like he was a normal man who could be with a woman freely, who could kiss without experiencing burning shame.

He tore his face away and buried it in your hair just as you clenched around him. He groaned long and low, unable to fight off his climax when you were tightening around his cock and pulling his orgasm out of him. He came inside you, releasing all the desperation that had built up through the night.

It was over. It wouldn’t happen again.

He cleaned you up carefully, removing all traces of his presence with wet wipes. He would pretend it hadn’t happened, and you never needed to know about it. Then he replaced his helmet and fell asleep with his back to yours.

\---

He was fixing breakfast for the kid when you entered in the morning. He was facing away from you.

You cleared your throat. “Thanks for letting me crash with you last night. I don’t know what I was thinking, sticking around in your room. And did I put on that shirt of yours, or did you?”

“You put it on.”

“Oh, gosh.” He could hear the cringe in your voice. Then he heard you shuffle closer. Your tone changed. “I had a weird dream last night.”

He was glad the armor hid his expressions, else he might have given everything away with a single glance. “Oh? What was it about?”

“You. It was a very hot dream. So nothing actually happened between us?”

He swallowed, remembering sinking into the heat between your legs. “No.”

“I almost remember you kissing me.”

He continued denying. “That must have been part of the dream.”

“Was this hickey part of the dream too?”

Mando spun around, staring, searching for the telltale mark that had betrayed him. He’d been such an idiot; he hadn’t been careful enough…

You were laughing, dragging your hair to the side to expose a small red patch on your throat. “I can almost _see_ you blushing.”

He started to stammer an apology, an explanation, but you turned and pranced out the door, still grinning.

It seemed his armor couldn’t hide everything.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying these so far. Please comment with more ideas of situations Mando and the Reader can get into <3


End file.
